


strange and wondrous miracle

by howlingheartdemigod (helpmeimstuckon)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mercer Style Resurrection Ceremony, Resurrection, i know i promised this weeks ago but. i was busy okay?, i thought this was gonna be short. oops?, in a big ol way, kind of related to together we defy it but only a little, too late confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helpmeimstuckon/pseuds/howlingheartdemigod
Summary: Yasha couldn’t be dead. Yasha was unbreakable. She’d taken thousands of hits, from enemies more terrible and terrifying. She would be okay. She had to be okay. Of course she was okay.She was barely breathing when Beau got to her.-Yasha dies, and Beau is left behind.





	strange and wondrous miracle

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr  
> find me there at howlingheartdemigod
> 
> ‘to be alive is the strange and wondrous miracle we forget'   
> -atticus, the dark between stars

It seemed impossible, if Beau was going to be honest. It seemed unfathomable. Ridiculous. Unimaginable. Yasha couldn’t be dead. Yasha was unbreakable. She’d taken thousands of hits, from enemies more terrible and terrifying. After all Yasha had been through, after war, and loss, and breaking free of a prison made of her own mind, she wouldn’t be felled by this. She would be okay. She had to be okay. Of course she was okay.

She was barely breathing when Beau got to her. With a trembling hand, she searched for a pulse under pale skin, searched for proof of life. It was too faint for comfort. 

“Jester!” To her own ears, Beau’s voice sounded strange. Sounded like some kind of wild creature, violently screaming for solace. The adrenaline was still harsh in her system, still clouding her gaze. She whipped her head around, the fight still raging behind her. “‘Duceus!” She searched the fray for a splash of pink, a flicker of blue, but it was too dark, it was too fucking dark. She couldn’t see anything, not when she’d given Caleb her goggles so he could cast.  _ ‘Fucking, human shitty eyes,’ _ She spun, looking back to Yasha, just close enough to make her out in the darkness. “Fuck,  _ fuck _ , I don’t…” Beau searched her pockets, head shaking. “I don’t have any potions, fuck, Yash.” She felt desperation rising up, ignoring the battle behind her. “Yasha, please, just hang on.” She turned her head, shouting back into the fight. “We need a healer! Yasha’s down! We need-”

A sharp pain took over Beau’s system, then the world went black.

* * *

“There we go, Beauregard.” Caleb’s voice filtered through the darkness. Something in her wanted to hit him with a pillow. There was light, dim, presumably magical from overhead, then the feeling of an arm under her shoulders, helping her sit. The distinctive scratch of a healing potion lingered in her throat as she blinked awake. She wasn’t sure what it was about them, but she always felt like the had a cough after drinking one. Beau blinked, trying to remember where she was, and why the back of her head hurt  _ so fucking much _ . 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Beau muttered, a hand going to the side of her head. The memory of the fight slowly started to filter through, “What hap-  _ Yasha _ . Fuck, where’s-” Her gaze met Caleb’s, saw the shine of tears, and felt her heart stop. “No.” she glanced around, eyes catching on the cluster, a good ten feet of from where she had crumpled by the wall. “Fuck,  _ fuck _ .” 

Standing was a challenge, but Caleb helped, offering a shoulder, muttering an explanation. “I don’t know how we missed it, whatever that thing on the wall was, but by the time I saw you it was trying to eat you.” She glanced back, noticing now the charred mass of what was probably once a body. She turned her gaze back. “It must have hit you in the head to knock you out. I- I am sorry Beauregard, none of this would have happened if I hadn’t pestered you about the goggles.” 

Beau shook her head, swallowing around a lump in her throat, “Not your fault.” She managed, head shaking. “I was right there. I was  _ right there _ , and I couldn’t... I didn’t have any healing potions on me, and I can’t  _ fucking  _ cast healing spells.” She took a shaky breath. “I was useless.”

“You tried.” Caleb sounded like he was attempting hope, but it was too foreign a concept to him. 

The words were heavy on her tongue as they drew close enough to see, as they could peer over the form their friends clustered around. Beau stared down at Yasha in the dim glow of dancing lights, taking in her skin, paler than ever before, her slack jaw, her distant unseeing eyes. Beau didn’t say it, but the words rang between them, vibrations choking off Beau’s lungs.  _ ‘I failed.’ _

Beau pulled away from Caleb, stumbling to collapse down next to Yasha. She reached a hand out, grabbing her pale wrist softly. The stillness of her veins was the loudest thing Beau’d ever felt. She looked up at Jester, then to Caducus, “Can you fix this?” she pleaded softly, begging the shell shocked clerics. They seemed just as stunned as she was, that death was even a possibility for Yasha. 

_ ‘Stupid,’  _ some dark voice crept up to chide,  _ ‘Everyone dies, everyone leaves. Leaves you. Or you abandon them. You got her killed, and look at you, too weak to bring her back. Just like Molly. Least they’ll be together.’ _

“Please.” Beau managed, against the rolling tide of voices in her head popping up to call her a failure. 

Caduceus looked to Jester, who’s lips parted, a thought slowly coming to surface. “I might… I’ve never… There’s something that the Traveler told me about, but I’ve never done it.”

The Firbolg’s head tilted, the soft rumble that made up his voice warming the air. “I think I know what you’re talking about. We could try. I don’t think… I don’t know if I can pull it off right now. I’m a little tapped.”

“I can try.” Jester said softly, nodding a little. She looked to Caduceus, then over to Beau. “We have to try.” 

* * *

Jester set up the ritual circle, Caduceus helped find the components, Nott smoothed Yasha’s eyes shut. Lots of things happened, Beau was relatively numb to it all. She fucked this up. She did this. She’s been the reason that Yasha fell. All her fault. A small hand touched her shoulder, claws grazing the skin.

“Here.” Nott’s voice was small, cold metal pressing to Beau’s hand. “Drink. Deep breaths.” Nott’s eyes were wet with tears, her mouth twisted. “You have to breathe.”

Beau took the flask, drinking heavily. The burn was nice. She wasn’t sure what kind of liquor it was. She didn’t know if Nott knew either. She choked around a gulp, and pulled away coughing. She felt eyes cut to her, catching, seeing she was okay, and moving back to the task. There were more important things to worry about than a mess getting drunk. Beau handed the flask back, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. “Thanks.” she managed. 

Nott pressed her lips. “I know I’m not… very good at being encouraging.”

“No shit.” 

“-but…” she fixed Beau with a glare before continuing. “I think you did good. And that there’s good left to do. We have a chance, right?”

Beau took a deep breath, focusing on the rise of her stomach, the drop of tension from her shoulders. Memories swirled around, failing to hear the Iron Shepards take three of her friends at once, failing to stop the Laughing Hand, failing to save Yasha here. God, they’d  _ just  _ gotten her back. She lifted her eyes, staring at Yasha’s form, guarded by a quiet Fjord and Caleb. “Right.” she said. “Right.”  _ I won’t fail again. _

Nott offered a hand, Beau took it, and they walked back over to where Jester was setting up the ritual, both trying to pretend that they are strong, despite already haven broken. 

* * *

When it came time to move Yasha to the ritual circle, Beau went to help Fjord do so. They quietly coordinated, arms under knees and bracing shoulders, Yasha’s head lolling back like some old painting of some forgotten hero lifted by the gods. Beau couldn’t rip her eyes away. Yasha looked so small, even needing two of them to lift her, she looked so fragile. Beau’d never seen that before, Yasha looking weak. 

Once they lowered her down, Fjord put a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Hey,” He said. “We’ve got this.” He promised.

Beau wanted to ask how he knew. Wanted to see if it was a lie. Wanted to know. She instead pressed her lips, nodded, and muttered “Aye, aye, cap’n.” Before pulling back to sit at the edge of the circle, hands folded over her knees. 

She watched Fjord retreat, standing near Jester, who’d never learned how to hide her nerves. Beau’s eyes bounced around the room, trying to focus anywhere but where her eyes felt drawn to. Jester’s voice rang out, calling out to the Traveler, but Beau couldn’t hear, exactly, not when she was looking at Yasha’s pale face, white skin, fair ends to her hair, still tinged red with blood. 

The runes below Yasha started glowing, pulling a gasp from Beau’s lips. The verdant green drifted up, the room seemed to be filled with the smell of a thousand different winds, a thousand different paths. She looked over to Jester, seeing a small secret smile start on her lips. “Okay.” Jester said, nodding. “We have to offer something up. It can be anything, words, an item, both.” she looked around, eyes locking with Beau’s. “We have to convince her to come back, from wherever she is.”

Well that was gonna be a real fucking task. Wherever Yasha was, Beau was sure, was beautiful. She deserved it. Fields of flowers, soft music, Mollymauk’s laughter, and Zuala. She deserved all that. And Beau was selfish enough to ask Jester to take that all away. 

Too fucking late to back out now. At least this way if Yasha doesn’t come back, Beau knows it was a choice. It was something more beautiful to choose on the other side. 

There was a quiet moment of shuffling, as glances were shared above Beau’s head, silent conversations she refused to be apart of. Then, slowly, Caduceus shuffled forward, lowering down next to Yasha. Beau pressed her lips, considering moving away, not listening, but his words came soft and clear, like he didn’t mind who heard. 

“I don’t claim to know the way that fate is woven, just that I can tell when I see it.” He reached and took her hand, frowning a little. “I know that cords pass over, and tie together, and end. I know some get cut off before the tapestry is completed. And I know that you’ve seen too many cut off too soon.” He smiled a little, holding something small in his hand. “But I don’t think your thread ends here, and I know we certainly don’t want it to. People like you and I, who serve things above us, we have a responsibility. Yours, I think, isn’t over yet. Your destiny is still coming. I’d like it if you would come back and be apart of it.” 

Caduceus smiled at her softly, and she saw him give her hand a little squeeze. Something in the air pulled tighter. She wondered if that meant that Yasha was getting closer to them, pushing in, or farther, stretching the connection. She swallowed, watching Caduceus retreat back a bit, watching those around her shuffle, looking at one another. She nearly cleared her throat, nearly moved in, nearly tried to voice what was scrambling around in her head. Spilling all her embarrassing feelings out, baring her soul to someone who would not be persuaded by what she had to offer, someone she’d already failed. 

Thankfully, Jester dropped down to her knees, digging through her haversack. “Okay, uhm…” Jester’s eyes were still full of tears, even as she spoke clear, determined. “I told you once, that if you said the word, we would all have your back.” Her eyes dragged up to Yasha, breath hitching a little, before dropping back down to her bag. She pulled her sketchbook free flipping through, searching for something. She pressed her lips. “I meant it. I meant it when I said we would be your family now. I think we all did. I…” Jester’s eyes shifted around the space. “We love you, Yasha. We all love you very much.” Her eyes looked back to the book, the, carefully, she tore a sheet out. “I know sometimes you have to be strong, too strong. That’s not fair, but I… Please be a little strong again, okay? Just strong enough to come back to us, one more time. We’ll cover the rest for a few days, just as long as you come back.” 

Over Jester’s shoulder, Beau caught a glimpse of a drawing, half colored, beautiful, of Yasha, sitting on a hillside somewhere, surrounded by flowers and butterflies, looking off in the distance. Beau’s breath caught, catching glimpses of the butterflies, one was green and black, another orange and brown. A green and yellow one seemed to spiral with a pink and blue, and above Yasha’s head danced a teal one, fading to pink at the tips of the wings, along with a purple one, painted carefully with intricate familiar patterns. On Yasha’s outstretched finger sat one that was cobalt blue and jade. Most stunningly, Jester had drawn Yasha’s wings, but restored, feathered, beautiful. It was beautiful, it was amazing. Beau’s heart broke thinking that Yasha would never see it. Jester folded the piece, and pressed it into Yasha’s hand, taking a careful breath. “Come back to us. We need you.”

The silence settled over them as the magic, as Yasha, seemed to consider it. Beau lifted her gaze to find all eyes on her. She bit her lip. She and Yasha… their friendship had gotten complicated. Since Yasha broke from the Laughing Hand, since Beau’s faith had wavered. She thought, maybe, before that they were growing closer. But things had gotten… strained since she came back to them. The first thing Yasha’d done when she came back to was look at Beau, mutter an apology, then collapsed to her knees. But there hadn’t been time. There hadn’t been a moment's pause. Beau had hooked an arm under Yasha’s and pulled her up. They needed to keep moving, to keep going. There was work left to do, the Laughing Hand left to kill, a war left to stop. So Beau had dragged Yasha along, talking softly to her, telling her she’d be her strength. Telling her she didn’t need to apologize. Telling her there was no way in hell Beau was ever letting her walk ahead again. Telling her how important she was. How amazing. How Beau would put her lift on the line before ever letting her get hurt again. All said to a wall of silence. 

They’d made it out, and Beau had barely said three words strung together to Yasha in the week since. 

Yet, here she was being asked, being expected, to bare her soul in front of everyone to someone who likely would not respond. 

Beau dropped her gaze, debating it. Worst case scenario, she was honest. Honest about how she felt. Honest about how it scared her. Honest about how she needed her. Honest about it all. And everyone would hear her, and Yasha would still be dead. 

If the worst option you have is being honest with your friends, what choice do you really have. 

Beau moved closer, chewing her lip. She reached out, hand shaking, to take Yasha’s. “I know that… I know that where you are right now is probably pretty great. I don’t know what the afterlife looks like for heroes, but you are one, so I’m sure you’re there. I know you probably have a lot there.” She swallowed, thinking of Molly’s laugh, Yasha’s smile when she spoke of her wife. “More than you have here, that’s for sure. Tell Molly hi, if you can. I know…” Beau took a breath, glancing around at her friends. They all looked so nervous, nervous that Beau would fuck up. Nervous that Yasha was gone for good. She dropped her eyes back to Yasha, trying to focus. “Yasha, we must pale in comparison. I must… I’m really bad at this, Yasha. I’m really bad at… honesty. Venerability. Feelings crap. But losing you showed me that I need you. That when I don’t have you I want you. That when you’re gone I miss you. Yasha, I was never the sort of person who thought I’d get to love someone like you, but I do. And the wild thing is I don’t care if you love me back. I don’t. I just care that you’re here. That you’re alive and safe. I… you’re just amazing. I have too much to say and no idea how to say it. But I’d like to figure it out. How to say that I admire you. How to say that I’m proud of you. How to say that I forgive you. I hope you forgive me too. I want to figure out how to say all that. So, come back, so we can figure it out together, yeah? Just… come back.” 

Beau took a breath, closing her eyes, and giving her hand a squeeze. There was a moment, a second, when all was silent, when she could feel the magic pressing down. Then, the hand she grasped started moving. Beau opened her eyes to see Yasha being lifted by some unseen force, the air around her sparking with lightning. Beau lifted her hand, refusing to let go, refusing to see Yasha taken away. She parted her lips, ready to call out, to beg, to do anything to keep her there, when the glowing stopped, when the magic lifted, when Yasha fell back to the floor, slowed inches from the floor by the toss of a feather from Caleb’s hand. 

Beau lifted her free hand to Yasha’s neck, feeling for a pulse, praying to whichever God was most likely to listen. Time seemed to pause, Beau’s fingers shaking against Yasha. She swallowed, eyes pooling with tears, not breathing, before she felt a pulse, strong and clear, beneath the pale skin. Beau let out a shaky laugh, lifting her eyes to Jester. “Can you heal her, wake her up, is she…” Before Beau could finish speaking, she felt the hand she still clutched tighten its grip. She felt a thumb drift soft patterns along the back of her hand. She looked down to find Yasha’s eyes, hazy with pain, locked on her. An apology bubbled to her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A crackle of heat sparked as Yasha lifted a hand to brush against Beau’s face, against her lip, and the pain that had been lingering in Beau’s system faded. Her eyes tracked her hand as it fell back to her side, seeing Yasha’s healing magic was still drifting off. “You…” 

Yasha moved to sit up, forcing Beau to stumble back from her knees to the ground to keep from bumping her. Yasha’s eyes scanned Beau’s face, seeming satisfied. “You had a split lip.” She rasped. Her hair still had blood in it, her skin was still pale, her fingers cold, but she was  _ alive _ . She was alive.

Before Beau could think of how to reply, Jester had thrown herself down, hands sparking with green healing magic as she hugged Yasha, talking a mile a minute about how scared she’d been. Beau, slowly, pulled away, letting go of Yasha’s hand, realizing how unsteady she’d become. She dragged herself back, as Caduceus dropped to a knee to hand Yasha a potion, as Nott moved to hug Yasha, as the world started moving again around her. 

Eventually, Fjord came over to pull her to her feet. Eventually, they started moving quietly, carefully through the rest of the danger. Eventually they made it to somewhere safe to camp for the night. Eventually Beau stopped feeling quite so shaken, and started feeling stupid. Eventually, she found a way to look at Yasha again, out of the corner of her eye, while Beau was taking watch, and Yasha slept soundly, safely, nearby. Eventually, Beau stopped looking, keeping her eyes on the distance, ready to fight whatever tried to come their way. 

* * *

Nothing came out of the woods that night, and the next morning Caleb had it in him to draw the complicated sigils and glyphs to get them home quickly. Beau kept her eyes on some faraway point, heart lodged firmly in her throat. She followed Yasha through the teleportation circle, hating the moment when she couldn’t see Yasha. As she stepped through to their house in Rosohna, her gaze shot around, only to find that Yasha was already looking at her. Silence rang through the room, until Nott stepped through the circle behind them, and the rest of their party shortly there after. Jester’s arm was through Yasha’s, and Caduceus was promising tea, and Beau fell back to her room, instead of following, instead of asking the question on her lips.

_ “Could you hear me? Do you remember what I said?” _

_ A stupid thing to ask, anyway.  _ Beau told herself, moving to change into something clean so she could go punch things in their training room.  _ A stupid thing to want to know.  _

* * *

Beau found her way up to Caduceus Garden in what she figured was the middle of the night. She couldn’t actually be sure, with the permanent darkness, but she thought she saw stars in the distance, so she hoped, at least, that it was night. Everyone was asleep inside, that was certain, with the exception of Caducus, who was in the library, pouring over some religious texts they’d picked up along the way. Beau had checked on everyone twice (and some more than that.) She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she tried, so she did what she was good at; she took watch. She tracked the comings and goings of people in the street, she counted guard shifts, she didn’t think of Yasha’s hand on her face, she didn’t think of how foolish she’d been, she didn’t think about how much she wished she’d been brave enough to kiss Yasha then and there. 

She didn’t think of that. She didn’t let herself think of that. That was stupid and foolish, and, gods, it was all she could think of. She lifted a hand to her face, to the faint remains of a busted lip lingering on her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile, eyes drifting shut. She was so caught up, she almost didn’t hear footsteps on the stairs, she almost didn’t open her eyes in time to see two toned hair, and two toned eyes rise from the stairs. She cleared her throat as Yasha looked to her, managing a smile. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Yasha replied, seemingly frozen. “I was looking for some fresh air.” 

Beau was an idiot. Yasha was looking for solace and Beau had invaded that. “I’ll clear off, sorry.” She replied, a flurry of movement, sliding down the few feet that she’d climbed the tree. 

“I was also looking for you.” Yasha’s words came out in a rush, and from the look on her face, they even shocked her. She’d moved on them, out of the trap door, onto the rooftop garden, taking clear steps towards Beau. “I was… I wanted to…”

“I’m glad you’re not dead, Yasha.” Beau interrupted, looking up at Yasha, realizing how close the other woman had come. “I didn’t say that before, so I wanted to… I wanted to say that now. I’m really glad you’re okay, I’m glad that you picked… I’m glad that we could bring you back, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful. There’s no way in hell I’m not keeping potions on me from now on, I don’t know how I was that-”

“I miss you when I’m gone too.” Yasha’s eyes were wide, lips parted. She looked so nervous, so small, but her eyes sparkled in the magic lights Caducus had created above them, and she was looking at Beau, and she was saying something impossible. She was saying she’d heard, she was saying, on some level, she felt the same. “I miss you a lot.” 

Beau stared at Yasha, jaw slack. “You do?”

“I do.” Yasha’s hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord to trace along where Beau’s lip had been broken. “And I would like to help you figure out to say all the rest, if you’ll have me.” 

Beau could have lit all of Rosohna with her smile. “Happily.” 

It seemed impossible, unfathomable, ridiculous, amazing. But, as Beau learned that Yasha’s kiss tasted like air after rain, she couldn’t help but smile into it. Couldn’t help it, because Yasha was alive, Yasha had heard her, and Yasha had picked her back.

**Author's Note:**

> unmodified rolls  
> Cad; 14  
> Jester; 15  
> Beau; 18
> 
> please leave a comment telling me how you felt about it!


End file.
